


Jyn Erso, The Jedi that Darth Vader Feared

by KCtheTank15



Series: Star Wars: Alternate Reality [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Other, Star Wars - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KCtheTank15/pseuds/KCtheTank15
Summary: Jyn Erso is left fighting for her life after the Battle of Scarif. She finds out that she was kept alive via Imperial technology after the skirmish and begins to exhibit Force powers. Powerful enemies then clash as destiny races towards them.





	1. Hope

She walked hesitantly down the steps shrouded in darkness, high heeled, brown leather boots clicking on the metal treads. Breathing in a dramatic, almost significant sigh, Jyn stood an impossible chance against her two captors, the Galactic Empire's shining-white stormtroopers. The pair of troopers, recognizable as Lord Vader himself, were inexorable, and implacable. However the circumstance, she had survived the Death Star's attack on Scarif, but at a terrible cost. She had lost her friend, Cassian Andor, K-2SO, the quaint blind warrior, Chirrut Imwe, who believed in the old Jedi ways, and the fearless armored man, Baze Malbus, with his rapid-fire chain-gun. They had all died, while she lived, and that bothered Erso to the very core of her existence.

She was interrogated by Vader himself, yet, she had been able to give him nothing on the whereabouts of the next Rebel base. Choked in the style of the Force, dogged in his methods; nothing was going to make her talk. With each time, Vader became more impatient and brooded about the entirety of the issue. 

"Jyn, you are not helping yourself, and I suggest you surrender the Rebel base's location immediately. You don't want any...messes, do you? I’m sure we can come to an agreement of sorts…” This time, he pulled out a cylindrical device once known to the Jedi. But he was no Jedi, and the weapon wasn't of the Jedi, either. Turning the device on, the blade glowed white hot at its core and crimson on the outside. Vader's lightsaber was only seen by those about to die.

Jyn Erso, the most brilliant soldier in the rebellion, was about to be cut in two by the second most powerful Sith Lord to date, and she wasn't even afraid. This realization came as though one snaps their fingers; so casually and so calmly, but still she held her ground.  
"Darth Vader, such a wondrous surprise to see you again! I suppose you had that wire on your breathing regulator replaced yesterday, am I right? A man has to sleep after all. Wait, you're not a man anymore, are you? You're a monster!"

"That insurmountable attack on Scarif has done you nothing."

"The Death Star will be destroyed by Rebels any day now. And when it is, you better hope that I am nowhere within lightyears of your mechanized existence..."

Jyn's true words hit the stormtroopers. They all knew, what had happened on Scarif. The entire operation was laudable: two infiltrators and a reprogrammed droid breaking into an Imperial stronghold, finding their way to the information retrieval vault and stealing the most important piece of data concerning the most powerful superweapon ever conceived, meanwhile the Empire's laughable attempt to contain the situation ended in the inevitable destruction of their own base by their own hand, nevertheless by means of their own superweapon. It was incredulous she had survived. The reason she survived, however, was a closely guarded Imperial secret.

"The next interrogator will not be as forgiving as I am, Jyn. In fact, he will call for your execution. That will be the Rebel's loss. Tell me, do you wish to regale your losses to me? Losing friends, family, even hope?" Vader implanted images in her mind, of those things that she had lost over the years. and tears welled in her eyes. Jyn stood fast in her speech.

"Rebellions are built on hope, and that will never change. Hope exists as long as a will to live. As long as one survives, there is hope. And as long as the Empire exists, someone will always be in the shadows, working to overthrow and restore the rightful place of Democracy. And coincidentally, I need to leave. Guards, take me away."

In a flash, his red beam of plasma stabbed into her knee and abdomen. The pain was unbearable, seething, white-hot, and burning inside, while she crumpled to the ground. Gritting her teeth through it, she saw Vader's glimmering helmet crouching down, looking at her eyes. Then her vision went black; she lost consciousness.

With a quiet groan, she regained composure in a large circular room. Glass tubes lined it like a giant chemist's laboratory. Erso was in a medbay, for reasons unknown. Had the Dark Lord spared her? 

She was laying on a spacious table, with restraints at her wrists and ankles. When she tried to open one, it clamped even tighter, like a snake devouring its own tail. Then it came to her, and she knew how. She knew how to open the wrist restraints without tightening them any more than they had already. However, the Sith Lord was there and waiting. "Jyn, you are very resourceful indeed. The Emperor has foreseen it. Breaking the restraints I gave using the Force unwittingly has inevitably brought you closer to the dark side," Vader stated this information as if it was a well-established fact already. "You will be my apprentice," he looked at her with such fascination and such reverence that it was sickening. Without any real musing, she mustered up her being and thought to herself, "If only I could throw him across the room". 

Blindingly fast, Vader threw his hand up as if he was cutting something with his glove in midair. Microscopic dust flew in enormous waves at him, but still, he somehow emerged unscathed from the mental push, like a rubber o-ring snapping back into shape after being pulled. 

“I see your Force abilities are quite strong, for now. Now the true test comes.” The Sith tossed her a lightsaber. It was long and thin and had a ribbed handgrip with a switch box on the left side. She pushed the activation stud, and a long glowing blade of bright blue plasma sparked into existence. She knew what she had to do. She had to fight and win against the infamous Darth Vader. How she was going to pull off a stunt like that was beyond her imagination. 

She awoke from her sleep. She had just experienced a terrifying dream, one that included lightsaber dueling, Darth Vader and herself. Jyn was aware that her heart was beating a million miles an hour, and that her brain was enshrouded in what-ifs when she groggily came out of her long period of slumber. Without completely thinking, she reached for the modified blaster that lay underneath her pillow. Good, it was still there in case she needed it. She was ready for the next phase of the mission.

The altered ship that carried her was a repurposed craft named Veridium, possessing powerful laser cannons and lavish rooms inside. Jyn Erso resided in such a room. Normally reserved for imperial dignitaries, or the Imperial Security Director himself, this room was dressed in the most brilliant of colors: ruby red, shimmering white, and scintillating silver. The bedsheets, made of dreamsilk, the floor was of a very soft yet stain-proof qashmel carpeting. Putting on her boots that were atop of a wicker chair without realizing, she opened the door and stepped out into the hall. “Captain, I've got a bad feeling about this.” At that moment, the floor buckled and slanted. The lights flickered, went out, and came back online. The shields were being hammered like a nail on the head. Jyn was no longer sure that the Empire wanted her alive.  
Depending on whether the vessel was elongated or not, normal versions of TIE carriers could carry up to six TIE fighters and modded ones carried up to ten. This was very bad news indeed for the Alliance vessel that was trying to outrun its pursuers. As green fire lanced out of the attackers’ lasers, waves of red plasma returned their blazing lines of cannon fire. Jyn started running, running to the internal hanger. Explosions rocked the vessel every which way, and Jyn's face planted itself into the floor. If she could just get to that damned hangar, she would be able to stand a chance at surviving this mess with the Imperials. If the TIEs were able to knock out the fields on the main hangar shielding, the other vessel would be able to dock and attackers allowed to board the Rebel Alliance ship.

Finding the hangar still in one piece, she climbed the ladder into the control-laden cockpit of an A-wing. Quickly and precisely turning the small fighter’s engines to full, activating the shields and the HUD, she hopped back out and picked out a life support bodysuit and armored vest over her head. When Jyn was ready, her fighter’s engines glowed a fluorescent orange-yellow, which signified that the excess fuel on the fuel lines had been burned off and that everything was running smoothly. Running out of time, She set the mission chronometer to the “on” position. Jyn, the brilliant strategist, and fighter pilot was ready for combat.


	2. Victory and Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More updates on Jyn's mental state and Vader's ruthlessness.

Chapter Two: Victory and Loss

Jyn pulled her craft out of the shielded hangar bay and rolled right as a TIE slipped past her on the left, its lasers firing in staggered bursts, trying to get a lock on the Rebel he had just inadvertently encountered. While the TIE was coming around for another run at her, she slipped her craft sideways and pulled the trigger. Lasers punched holes in the attacker as though she were ripping open a bag of Ithorian candy. The TIE exploded into a burst of shrapnel and debris, with the pilot having ejected helplessly into the battle.   
As her lasers flared, another TIE came into existence at just the right angle and red energy raked across starfighter armor plating like claws ripping across some paper. Gas began to vent out of the opposing fighter like a leaking balloon as it lazily swirled off into space; the pilot was no longer able to control his craft. The Gozanti class cruiser began to take fire from all sides as more fighters poured from the Veridium’s hanger bay. There was a loud noise as the tensor fields holding the cruiser together failed and exploded, ripping the craft apart, and a large cloud of debris billowed out of it like a wounded beast. When all was said and done, the TIEs realized that they could not fight alone without their support craft and fled.  
When she landed again in the bottom of the Alliance cruiser, she took off her helmet with a whoosh and placed it inside her arm nonchalantly. Her hair was up in a bun, and her hands covered the color of red paint from gripping the steering controls the entire time. Jyn Erso, the brilliant pilot, head of the Alliance Army, was about to congratulate herself on a swift victory. However, there was work to be done. Prep was made for lightspeed and the Veridium vanished into the wondrous travel of faster than light transport.

The Sith Lord's fist slammed onto the table. Black gloved hand smashed the cup of Alderaanian tea that lay under it. The pieces picked themselves up and aimed themselves at the door. The Sergeant never saw it coming. His back was stabbed with a thousand little pricks, and Vader himself picked him up by the collar and threw him against the durasteel wall. “WHAT? What do you mean, the ship was lost?!? Are you telling me that we lost a Gozanti cruiser to a Rebel blockade runner? Guards, I want this lieutenant out of here, NOW!” Vader yelled the word "now" with such horrid volume that his vocabulator practically screeched.  
Two troopers took the second lieutenant out of the cavernous viewing room and down a turbo lift to the med bay. After all, Vader had just summarily stabbed him a thousand times. He would die without medical attention.

“My Lord, the fleet is coming out of hyperspace now. Shall I send an envoy to pick up the survivors? They are maneuvering from the debris field to hangar H-719,” An ensign, elderly, but able-bodied, had walked up to Vader, giving this information to him without so much as a pause. “Yes ensign, recover the survivors. I want every inch of every cruiser inspected for bombs, understood? This has not been the only time that a cruiser like this has been destroyed this way,” Vader spoke with such viciousness that one would have thought him under attack. The man gulped and nodded. 

Last standard week, another cruiser had been lost from tensor field failure as well, causing a massive exploding mess all over the landing deck on the city-planet of Coruscant. A report had been filed, and the loss investigated. Without a doubt, the report concluded that there had been rebels on the landing dock that day.

“The mechanical failure that day had been caused by rebel activity near the ship when it landed. I believe that they have learned how to target these cruisers’ flaws. Admiral, I want to place a holo-comm to the Corellian Engineering Corp as soon as possible. This weakness must be remedied. The Imperial TIE Carrier has been a vital instrument in our plans to expand the Empire into the Outer Rim. Without them, our starfighter complements cannot and will not be refilled. And that means defeat. That is something I, nor the Emperor, will not tolerate. You have forty-eight standard hours to recall all TIE Carriers to Corellia. There, I will have the Corellian Engineering Corps on site for repairs. Do not fail me, Admiral. You know what happened to your predecessor…” 

Vader's mask showed no expression. Neeva understood this message with utmost certainty. "I will be in my meditation chambers. Do not disturb me unless it is urgent. I feel a disturbance in the Force, I will clarify with the Emperor himself," said Darth Vader, the most feared man aboard the Star Destroyer, as he left for his chambers. The entire bridge crew held their breath until it was sure he had left. A concerned Neeva looked out the viewport again, worried about the given time frame.

The Admiral was a man of virtue, integrity, and honesty. His peers vouched poorly, however. The others lied, cheated, and even murdered their way up to their positions. Admiral Neeva was different. He believed that the Empire was a worthy cause, that the oppressive regime was trying to unite and mend the galaxy truly. The Sith Lord had restrained from strangling him this time because of those qualities. Vader himself had even given the quiet, often intense man a medal for courage and honor displayed in battle. "Ensign, I will be in my quarters if you need me," Neeva spoke gravely to the elder man as though his departure was his last, and it could be if the Admiral did not carry out those instructions as they detailed.

This is the current state of the Empire. Fighting against an insignificant rebellion, they are superior. Throwing all those who dare oppose the emperor’s reign into incarceration or even the cold hands of death. There are people working to rightfully restore the Republic behind the scenes of oppression. A well-known senator from the planet of Alderaan, his wife and daughter are among the many who secretly dare to rise up against the dictatorial rule of Sheev Palpatine. Hope is something these beings have naturally, and it is this innate hope that the Empire is attempting to destroy.

The Rebellion. A group of ragtag soldiers, runaways, and defectors from the Empire, these beings are the champions of hope. The bringers of peace, or so their homeworlds said. The Empire’s very worst fear personified. Every day that the Rebellion exists, the Empire loses more and more star systems to their cause and more and more resources to their opposition. This is both of their stories, changing with each storyteller.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically more Vader stuff, Jyn starts realizing that she's got force powers, etc... :P

Chapter 3: Confrontation

Jyn Erso was dreaming again. She was in the same dream she had been dreaming for weeks. She was in her worst nightmare.

Lightsabers clashed and sparked on one another. Jyn's sky blue blade moved closer to Vader's hand, without much success. Fluorescent red and azure energy whirled and danced around each other in time to the crushing hits and glancing blows that the pair sustained. Still, neither adversary was going to give in to the other. They could have been rationalizing with a deadly snake and there was no dealing with a serpent. Vader sliced at her as though she were nothing, and Jyn energetically countered to offset the incredible amount of strength the Sith Lord showed.

As Vader swung for the final kill, she sidestepped him and neatly left a hole in his armor weave cloak. Surprised, Vader took a step back. Gathering all the newfound power she retained, she brought forward the courage to lash out in the Force and push Vader off the platform they were dueling upon. Unconventionally, he floated back up, lifted in a dignified Force glide. He stabbed at her throat when he landed.

She snapped to consciousness immediately, with sweat on her brow, and cramps in her muscles. This dream was beginning to take a toll on her. She remembered when the Empire was a grand Republic, and not some evil force trying to wreak havoc upon the universe. She remembered when there was no Vader, but distantly, Jedi wielding lightsabers in democracy's defense. Then everything changed. The Empire arose, and out of the Republic's ashes, it came. Vader, and his feared lightsaber. Palpatine, with his ever terrifying Force Lightning. They ruled the galaxy currently, but that was about to change. Rumors circulated that Vader himself was going to visit the Death Star eventually in the next two standard months. What a brilliantly flawed plan, she thought to herself. 

Rolling on her side, she realized that she was not going to get more sleep this time. Jyn did not want to experience that horrible illusion to its conclusion. Reluctantly, she brought herself up and yawned. Picking up her blaster, and putting on a more comfy pair of boots, Jyn shuffled her way to the cafeteria for some food and a hot drink, for she was cold, and the heating duct in her room wasn't working well. “What would you like for today, dearie?” A small old lady, named Lara, asked politely. “I'll take the Fried Endorian chicken strips, and a side of homestyle potato slices seasoned with black hole pepper and some roasted Pirki nut sauce please.” The woman shook her head. “Honey, all we have is a Boontaspice honey mustard sauce. We ran out of Pirki nut sauce hours ago.” “I'll take it. Thank you very much.” Rummaging for and finding the seven and a half credits she needed to pay for the dish, Jyn took a seat at the nearest table and waited for her food patiently. When the hot meal came, at last, the old woman sat down gingerly across the table from her. “Jyn, I know you haven't been sleeping well. I've seen you walking around at night. What is on your mind, m'dear? You can tell me anything.” She smiled like an old friend. After all, Jyn was known to favor Lara's cooking skills greatly, and her companionship.  
She placed her hand on Jyn’s woolen covered arm reassuringly. Jyn whispered cautiously, “Well, it's just… I've been having this dream. The same thing keeps happening over and over, and I don't want it to keep going. It horrifies me to my soul."

“The Force can have powerful symbolic meaning when it enters into the realm that is sleep, and I believe you are having what is called a Force premonition. I've heard some people who can touch the energy field can actually have such a strong connection that they can see the future. Experience things that normal beings cannot. Maybe you can touch the Force after all?”  
Jyn gulped. Touching the Force was a daunting prospect to her. She could not comprehend being able to have such responsibility of that power. If she was able to touch the Force, Darth Vader would want to search her out and destroy her or convert her to the dark side. When she got that far, she would either be destroyed or turned into the very thing she swore to bring to an end. She was not going to die, and she was not going to be some Dark Lord’s lackey either.   
Questions swirled through her mind. "Am I able to use the Force? What caused this? Why me, of all people?" Lara couldn't answer these, nor could she answer the what if’s either.

Vader was in his meditation chamber. His thoughts were centered on his body. Renewing it, through the use of the Dark Side. His first battle with Obi-Wan Kenobi left him marred and scarred for life. Rendered him unable to breathe without the use of his mask. The chamber he sat in cross-legged could become hyperbaric, which supplied the oxygen he needed to him when his helmet was removed. For the first time this meditation session, he could concentrate his hatred upon healing his damaged body. Vader began to focus, thinking about how Obi-Wan and the other Jedi betrayed and damaged him. Cells began to reshape and grow, becoming whole again. He smiled, concentrating harder on how even his late wife, Padme had left him for democracy, the wheels of which had turned against his Master. Then the process stopped and reversed. Face contorting in pain, he remembered that he had allowed himself to grieve over his love, his only partner in life. The Emperor looked down on attachment. To him, love was only a game, in which pawns could be moved or destroyed. Vader turned to the dark side due to love, and attachment was what caused his downfall. Love also kept him from the dark side’s true power.

“My Master, I have encountered a ripple in the Force. Without a doubt, I suspect it is a Jedi. My senses tell me they are untrained still and might be useful to our advantage. What is your wish toward this matter?” 

Vader kept his opinion of the matter to himself. It was not his place to determine why his master didn't simply destroy worlds and resistance to his rule outright. Those that resisted deserved to be destroyed, Vader thought. If he had been Emperor, instead of Palpatine, thousands of worlds would have been razed and critically damaged already, preventing the rebellion in the first place, or so the Sith Lord believed.  
“Lord Vader, we have encountered this great disturbance together. If we are able to turn this new Force-wielder over to the dark side, the Rebellion will be detrimentally broken. I push you to proceed with finding the identity of this new Force wielder.”

“Master, I feel this being will be destroyed in our grand plan to expand the Empire. They will mean nothing in the end-” Vader was cut off by his master’s hideous smile. That was his cue to listen more.

“Yes, however, their mere existence threatens ours. Therefore, you must convert them to the dark side, before they bring our grandiose plans crashing down upon themselves. Whoever they are, they must not be allowed to become a full Jedi.” Darth Vader renewed his faith in the dark side, bowed to Palpatine, had his mask replaced after turning off the holoprojector, then strode out of the meditation chamber. 

Imperial Intelligence worked their magic before on such matters. Finding Jedi who had escaped the Emperor’s wrath was one such example. Another factor in how successfully the operations were completed was Lord Vader’s regular battlefield promotions of his officers. When one predecessor died, it usually meant that Vader was willing to send in another to do the same task. Vader was like that, able to keep watching others fail until the situation called for him to arrive on the scene.

One such encounter with a Rebel commander, who had the misfortune of meeting Vader face to face, had called him a coward and a more physically incapacitated version of his former self. That commander was now dead, and his entire platoon of troops was smashed into oblivion on an insignificant planet. That day, Vader had looked at himself through the eyes of someone else. As a man who was physically incapable of accomplishing what he had once thought mere child’s play. Vader eventually learned other methods for getting the same results. The signature Force Choke was a perfect example of this adaptation, and when Force jumps were required in battle, Vader simply floated up in a dignified Force Glide. If any adversary even so much as made an attempted escape, a lightsaber throw was all that was needed to cut them down or hinder them. He was not as he once was, but the terrifying presence of him created fear so deep, beings radiated it. They needed to fear him.   
Vader did something that made the rebels want to attack his ship directly… an act of terrorism.  
Without warning, the Star Destroyer’s walls shuddered, as though there was some inertial force keeping the ship from moving as its engines strained to break free. Klaxons blared over internal speakers, whilst pilots and soldiers alike ran toward battle stations. Nothing was to be said of Vader. He was not affected in the slightest. The mask's eyes glowed, bent and refracted the flickering lights. 

“Commander, I suggest that you begin to take command of protecting this ship. The Emperor will not be pleased to hear that you could not fight off a Rebel incursion aboard this vessel!”  
With this in his mind, Commander Neeva ordered all deflector shields to be faced toward the bow and at least one shield to be aimed toward the stern; like any reasonable Imperial Star Destroyer captain, he did not want his ship shot out from under his assertive and calm behind. Not that such an event mattered. The ISD Valiant could hold its own in any fight, and take more punishment than the average Star Destroyer. When she was built at the height of the Empire, she was given updated weaponry, armor, and even tracking capabilities. This ship was not going to let Neeva down. She couldn't. Not here, and not now, especially with death hanging over his head like a guillotine if he failed. She had to hold together this time.


	4. Power Beyond Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically expanding upon Jyn's dream and playing it out till pretty much the end...

Chapter 4: Power Beyond Nightmares

Vader held her up in an undignified Force choke. She calmed herself and pushed back with the Force, causing Vader to leap backward off the platform again. She leaped for her saber, and soon her blade was out and flaming. She hurled the thing energetically, whipping directly at her adversary. His red line came up and knocked the spinning buzzsaw out of the air, and the handgrip zoomed back into her brown gloved hands again.

Waking up today was beyond difficult for her. Everything came back about her dream, and sleep had escaped her easily the last few nights. She could have received enough sleep, had she slept a few hours more, but in the end, what was it going to matter? She had enough sleep to last the week's remainder.   
Typically, Lara gave puzzled looks at her. The elder lady eventually allowed Jyn to look over her recipe book, giving her control of the kitchen for a day in hopes that it might help Jyn to relax and recharge, but no such luck existed. Until one day, when she stopped in the corridor next to the kitchen, sniffing at the air approvingly. It smelled like Ithorian and Coruscanti honey butter potatoes, with black hole pepper and some sliced jun-lime Bantha meat to go with it. The young fighter entered the kitchen to find Lara working up a storm to calm a small, smoking, smoldering fire raging on the cooktop. Without much pause, Jyn ran to the fire extinguisher and before she even got to use it, the fire had gone. The meat was a nice smoked and buttered color, and the potatoes had almost entirely crisped in the pan within the confines of the oven. Mere seconds passed and both started laughing about how Lara almost just burned down the galley. She loved this kitchen with all her heart.

Without even a glance over Lara's cookbook at this point, Jyn could recall instantly hundreds of dishes, many of them mouthwatering and highhandedly able to feed plenty of beings. How can I do this? This shouldn’t be able to be done! She thought. A slight mental push, and she peered inside another person's being and gotten more or less everything except the secret ingredient for their legendary home style tomato-potato soup, made from crispy-baked potatoes, soft-blanched tomatoes, smoked Gonzo cheese, spicy black hole pepper, and a fresh, delicious, baked Endorian chicken chunk salad in a red tomato, crisp celery lettuce, and white Correllian ranch sauce. Jyn had approved of such meals nowhere else, and nowhere else in the galaxy could a being get such food for such a decent price. 

When Jyn was a small girl, her mother, Lyra, had prepared a dinner of chili dumplings and Correllian cheese stew, with a scrumptious side of mega-leaf lettuce, mouthwatering tomatoes, spicy red onions and a petite serving of homemade tangy Boontaspice mustard whisked with a bit of flour as a dressing for the salad. It was the best meal; the epitome, as a mother's hands should make. However, after late Imperial Security Director Krennic killed her mother, the military grade rations that Saw Gererra and his band of rebels had grown so fond of during their time together with her. They did not appease her. In fact, they were quite disgusting, when she thought about it.

Food was a language she could relate to. Cuisine spoke volumes about the being who made it, shaped it, and had so carefully prepared it. Food was a story to her, and like all good stories, one should enjoy it thoroughly. She valued excellent cuisine like a steaming cup of caf, because of her background, her travel history, and her knowledge of preparing meals from growing up without parents. She provided for herself on a regular basis while tending to vegetables and fruits, ensuring that she and the resistance possessed supplies to last.

However, men and women were different than refrigerated leftovers. Soldiers getting through the battles to come was a different story, and it daunted leaders when their fighters came from a ragtag array of back stories and innumerable worlds. Was hard to communicate with them how much the Empire needed to be destroyed. Without a strong and determined face to rally them, hope to defeat the Empire would be gone. The Emperor would continue weeding the galaxy of the Rebel's goodness and hope every day.

The only way to fix the issue was to confront the Emperor face to face, blow for blow, and win. The only choice to combat the Imperial hold on worlds which were captive was to rise up in a single cry of rebellion and break free of the Imperial chains on freedom. That presented a massive desire of manpower, which the Rebellion at current did not entirely possess. The Emperor's famed stormtrooper numbers grew daily, with various planets pledging their allegiance to him. It was time to rise.

Jyn looked at her wrist chrono. It was still set to mission time. She vaguely remembered turning it off at the end of the crazy flight, the one that resulted in the destruction of an Imperial cruiser. She thought in an abstract pattern about how the past few weeks had gone thus far. “Check three cruisers and one small armed merchant vessel,” she whispered to herself. Without waiting to see if anyone needed her, Jyn Erso slunk into the situation room with careful consideration. She flicked on the holoprojector, waiting for its low thrumming to resonate into a higher humming. The device tinkered on and allowed her fingertips to touch information in real time, without ever actually writing anything down.

She frowned, reading more deeply into the tactical situation as of late. Three cruisers and an armed merchant vessel had already made poor attempts to take the Veridium. All of them had failed, but the ship was “barely” holding together, at least, emotionally it was barely holding together. The crew had taken an emotional beating, and it was beginning to show. More and more officers were heading to sickbay with complaints of acute stress reactions than ever before. She had to find some way to rally them again without losing their resolve.

She herself had gone to sickbay, complaining of a major headache and restlessness at night before sleeping. Jyn often woke up with aching, cramping muscles that felt like they had too much energy, even though she was absolutely and thoroughly fatigued. She was sure that it was probably a viral syndrome of sorts, and that couldn’t be helped whatsoever. Whatever the case, she had work to do.

Darth Vader sat in his quarters, alone and undisturbed. The mask shielded his eyes from the bright and overstimulating rays of light which originated from the ceiling. His weapon laid in pieces on the floor. Reaching out with the Force, the otherwise normal odds and ends lifted off the floor and began to float towards Vader’s palm. Flanges and buttons became whole again, batteries, metal rings, and rubber formed a handgrip; the seemingly ordinary blood-red crystals became capped inside the once-ripped-apart hilt. Then the blade turned on and the room glowed fluorescent crimson with energy. The lightsaber spun through the air, with such precision that the walls had not a mark on them.  
The comlink beeped on the ornate, carved nightstand by the bed. He picked it up and firmly pressed the communicator’s “talk” button. “What is it, Admiral?” Vader’s vocabulator distressed the words what is it with intensity and fire. He wasn’t supposed to be bothered when he was meditating, as his Master had explicitly demanded. However, the man on the other end of the line was bound and determined to let Vader have his good news.

“Milord, we have found them. The lost ship has been identified and is being tracked this very moment,” Neeva said confidently. He would not lie or cheat the rank that he had been given, unlike his peers. Other Admirals were notorious for their lack of accountability; many a man had been summarily strangled by Lord Vader. What made him different was his conviction of moral dignity. That was the reason that Vader trusted him; it was the reason that Vader kept promoting a “fanciful relationship” with him. Vader wasn’t a socialite anyways, and he often kept to himself. What Neeva found interesting was that he seemed to be occupied with “meditating” frequently. He had a feeling that Vader was grieving over something he once had a few years ago, and that he didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. He wasn’t the Dark Lord himself, however, and making such an assumption was deadly. Vader was not to be trifled with, especially on matters of the heart. “As if he has a heart,” the Admiral muttered dismissively.

Rumors were heard that he was once a very powerful individual, that he was once even a Jedi. But that rumor was proven to be baseless and unreliable, but the crew still circulated it anyways for lack of entertainment. It was soon to be proven true, however, that Vader could be counted upon to keep his promises, in some way, shape or form. Vader promised Neeva, that for every failure he committed, the man would receive one dead trooper in sickbay with a cauterized hole in his chest. If the number of failures ran above 3, Neeva would need a replacement, permanently. “The Emperor is not as forgiving as I am. Take what chances I have given and deal the best blow to the Rebellion that you can,” Vader had told him. “They are not to be trifled with, nor negotiated with on any terms. I want complete surrender.” 

Back in the strategy room, Jyn looked upon the holo-maps of the past four attacks on her vessel. They were seemingly random, coming out of nowhere and then either vanishing into the void of empty space or had been destroyed. The former was more frequent as of late. Slowly, she noticed a pattern. The cruisers always seemed to launch their fighters halfway through the battle, and then they would usually all flee by the engagement’s end. As simple and odd as it was, the answer to that line of questioning led to a single meaning: Vader was tracking her ship, using cruisers as decoys and TIE’s as recon vessels. The plan was brilliant, marked with the strategic fingerprints of an Imperial Admiral and a Sith Lord. Well, there was nothing to be done about the past now, but the future, the future could be changed, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

She stayed glumly in her spot. Jyn coldly regarded the holo with intensity, yet released all her feelings. She broke down; she sobbed and cried. The rebellion was so close to surviving, and yet Vader was practically right there, whisking it all away like child’s play. He was almost as good at destroying goodness and hope as the Emperor himself. If she truly had Force powers like Lara had hoped, then Vader and his Master would be in for a treat. The last Jedi that they had both faced would have been remnants of the Jedi Order, fleeing from Palpatine and his reformed apprentice.  
Jyn was beyond worried and heartbroken. Her men probably knew about the ruse as well, and they couldn’t be faring better than she was at the moment. She itched the back of her neck with a voracious ferocity. It itched because she couldn’t tell them about the real reasoning behind the mission. She could not tell them that the real Death Star plans were with the princess of Alderaan. In truth, her ship only carried a decoy transmission of those plans. Whatever the case, the princess had to get to her end of the deal to her family friend, a Jedi named Kenobi. All hope would be lost if she failed. Not to mention, the possible end of the Rebellion was at stake. Something even the Emperor could not attain at the moment, the end of the Rebellion and its related allies were gathering strength in the Outer Rim territories, especially backwater planets like Tatooine, even into the Inner Rim, as far inwards as Bilbringi. Without a doubt, the uprising borne of fire and destruction was growing. She had a feeling it would last much longer than a few years on its own, that it would grow and develop into a real rebellion that would seriously hinder or even stop the Empire.

Vader walked up to the steps, his blade of red crimson dancing about him like a Twi’lek performer. Nobody noticed the flourishes and parries as Vader did, and his expert swordsmanship made sure of it. Each droid fell and died, a burned hole somewhere on its chassis. Attacking with flickering holographic form, they reverted back to their original shapes when struck down. The last droid to be stricken from the group was a young man, no more than 25 years old. His long wavy brown hair flowed past his ears, and the scar on his right eye was characteristic of this lightsaber-wielding opponent. His dark tunic wavered and twirled about in his attacks, and the glove over the right hand covered in steel and leather curled around the handgrip like a snake up a tree. The boots tapped the ground every time they connected with the floor. Vader parried and blocked and twirled round and round like a carousel with his enemy, a Jedi. His armor shone with a crimson glare, and his adversary’s face lit up with azure blue. They clashed again. and the Jedi went down swinging. He didn’t get back up this time. He was cut down right as he stabbed through Vader’s armor-weave cloak. This young man, the Jedi… he was part of his Sith counterpart’s past. He WAS his past. All that changed when his love died by his hand. He never forgave himself after that. He was on the path of the Sith, and couldn’t dare look back for fear of disappointing his Master. He had vowed he would join the dark on his own terms, but now he was just a slave, just like all those years ago on that sandy, windy planet with the twin suns cycling over and over like a merry-go-round. In another lifetime, Vader remembered things like family, love, passion, strength, and purpose. Now there was just existing and one purpose: to destroy the Jedi and the light they left in the galaxy. If so much as one survived the Purge, they would wreak havoc on his Master’s plans for the universe… and him. The Emperor was not forgiving as Vader had been in the past. In fact, he was more of a conniving, sly, and well thought out convoluted planner, as well as a galactic murderer and dictator. He was essentially at this moment invincible, with the help of his Imperial guard, so theretofore, an attack on him would be suicide. However the same could not be said of his apprentice, the infamous Vader. Vader let himself be faltered in battle so as to feint the illusion of defeat.  
Jyn really never hoped to meet Vader face to face. He was ruthless. She was a petite slender young woman with no hope of beating him. Hence the visions and dreams being confusing: how was SHE supposed to fight Lord Vader with a lightsaber?  
Jyn was supposed to lead a rebellion against the empire, but how was she supposed to do that effectively with a Force sensitivity she had never known before? She was exhausted and tired like she had lost the battle already even though it had not been fought yet. Her downfall was coming. The Empire WOULD win against her, or so she felt. Without sufficient training, she’d die, and then the rebellion would be for nothing, Leia and Bail Organa would also perish with the Death Star’s attack on Yavin in the future scene playing out in Jyn’s head.   
She was so tired and yet sleep started escaping her. She couldn’t really get rest, not with Vader and Palpatine on the loose still. Jyn started having delusions of actually dying when she was asleep, from sleepless night-induced delirium. Finally going to the medical bay, she got a dose of sedatives and fell asleep with soundness she had not had in at least 3 standard days. When she awoke in her dream again, Vader was crumpled on the ground.


End file.
